


Moonshine Dreams

by HardiganCaptain



Category: Lawless (2012)
Genre: F/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:45:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardiganCaptain/pseuds/HardiganCaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>.... I'll get back to you on this.<br/>Forrest gets drunk, stumbles out into the woods, knocks his head, winds up in some stranger's cabin<br/>That is literally the best I can do right now, and I'm sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The hollow thud still echoed in his ears as he headed to the shed behind the station, shoulders hunched to ward off the cold as he pulled the key from beneath his shirt. Running his finger over the lock to clear the thin layer of ice that had formed, he unlocked the door only to hesitate with the lock hanging from his finger. Yes he was livid, his teeth grinding so hard that his jaw ached, but was it worth turning to drink to drown it away to try to clear his head?

Her words rang in his ears, the sharp words cutting just as deeply now as they had half an hour ago. He’d been unable to focus on the accounts, the numbers swirling on the page as he’d tried to add them, the sums coming up different every single time he finally got them in order. If that wasn’t cause to drink he didn’t know what was.

Yanking open the door, ignoring the sharp retort the door made as it slammed into the wall he stepped inside, grabbing the oil lamp that hung on the hook near the door and lighting it. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust he’d tried to push back the anger again only to find that it wouldn’t leave, tightening his muscles as he refrained from lashing out at something. Such a show of temper would be childish and slamming the door to the station as he’d left had been one display too many.

Hundreds of jars sat packed in wooden crates, the clean smell of hay they’d been cushioned with filling his nose as he took in yet another breath meant to calm him down. Damn her temper, damn her thinking she had any say on how he ran his life, damn her for trying to convince him that he was an unfeeling monster for doing what had needed to be done.

Grumbling beneath his breath, mocking the words she’d thrown at him, he walked up to a crate, hefting a jar in his hand and quickly unscrewed the top. The moonshine burned his throat as he tilted the jar back, swallowing several gulps before his body fought the white hot liquor he was trying to force down his throat. Covering his mouth with his wrist he waited for his throat to stop squeezing, for his stomach to stop roiling as though it meant to crawl out his mouth.

“You’re over reacting, Forrest.”

Whirling around he narrowed his eyes at his older brother, wiping the stray drops from his mouth. Over reacting? No, if he had wanted to over react he would have slapped her, stopped the non stop stream of words she’d screeched at him. If a man had said half the things she’d hurled at him, he’d be laying on the ground with an imprint of brass knuckles on the soft underside of his jaw. Sullenly he lifted the jar again and took a healthy swig, a dismissive grunt leaving his throat as he moved to go around Howard.

“You knew she wasn’t gonna like what we did to those men, knew she was gonna be madder than a hell cat that got wet.” He side stepped to stand in his brother’s way, taking in the stiff line of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes that were burning holes into him. “I get it, some of the things she said were below the belt, but you gonna let that get you into some kind of trouble?”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, Howard. Leave it.”

“So you can speak.” he feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart and almost fell when he pretended to swoon on his unsteady legs.

“I said, leave it.” the words were growled out between thinned lips, eyes flashing as he finished the jar and reached for another, the empty one tossed out into the snow missing Howard’s head by centimeters.

“Maybe if you talked to her instead of just standing there like a lump of coal you’d work this out sooner.” there was an edge to his voice, one Forrest ignored as he unscrewed the cap of his next jar. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t got no sense!”

“Howard when I want advice from you I’ll ask for it. Now get!”

Watching the way his brother’s face crumpled with disappointment he felt a pang of guilt. Despite the fact Howard spent more time chasing skirts and drinking their supply than actually working, he still looked up to him. Not for any other reason than he was older, he’d been the one who’d taken care of them before going to war after their parents had died, he still needed him, but he was too full of hurt to apologize.

“That stubbornness of yours is gonna chase off the best thing that ever happened to you.” Grabbing a couple jars for himself, he turned and stormed out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

Forrest let out a skeptical grunt as he took another long pull from the jar. A corner of his mind was mocking him, assuring him that his brother was right, but the moonshine was racing through his blood and drowning it out. Wiping his mouth with his wrist he contemplated his options. He could go back inside, deal with Howard’s judgmental looks, Maggie’s icy silence and cool glances or… 

His feet were already moving, grabbing another jar and rolling it on his palm as opened the door with the toe of his boot. Juggling both jars and the key and lock had him stymied for a minute until he stacked the jars and then attempted to secure the lock. Fingers half frozen by the time he was done, he finished off the second jar and peered around in the twilight lit yard trying to find where he’d tossed the first. Hazarding a guess he let it fly, a quick nod of satisfaction when he heard the jars clink and break.

Sliding the thin chain over his head he shivered when the metal touched his skin, rolling his shoulders to try and chase away the goosebumps that were spreading along his back. He hummed an old mining tune as he turned away from the station towards the woods, occasionally shuffling his feet and doing a small turn to the sound of fiddles playing in his mind. Lifting the jar he spun slowly, a soft drum like beat falling from his mouth because he couldn’t remember the words.

They’d been happy, she made him smile. Not a quick twitch of his lips to denote humor but a full wide curl of the lips that had warmed him inside and out when she returned it. She’d even on occasion startled a chuckle out of him, the sound rusty from lack of practice, adding the sweet sound of her own laughter at the look of his brothers’ twin expressions of shock. But now? 

His dancing slowed, remembering the small fights that he’d brushed off as inconsequential, not realizing until too late that he should have tried to unsnarl the smaller problems to get to the bigger one. She’d had one hell of bee in her bonnet, something he’d done that buzzed angrily in the back of her mind with him none the wiser until today. Apparently he was supposed to have let the law deal with those men after what they’d done. The way they’d disrupted his haven, the way they’d slit his throat open and left him to bleed in his own god forsaken driveway, the way they’d violated her, bruising more than the pale skin he’d come to cherish more than breath.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t let it show on her face, but as he thought on it he remembered the way her hands had trembled clenched at her sides. He’d thought it was from fear, fear that some terrible reprisal was going to come down on his and Howard’s head. But she’d let it simmer, fester, until she’d blown like a badly maintained still, spewing bile in a voice loud enough he was sure the Sheriff and his cronies had heard it up by the bridge.

If he was fair, and he wasn’t feeling all that generous at the moment, maybe they had gotten a little too creative, a little too far gone in their pursuit of vengeance. His fingers lifted to trace over the thick scar that lined his throat, scratching at it as he lifted the jar for a drink only to find the cap still on. Growling he wrenched it off and threw it at a tree, not entirely satisfied with the dull ping it made as it rebounded off the bark. His jaw was cold as the moonshine spilled over the corners of his mouth to trickle down his neck as he drank greedily from the jar chasing a bit of escape that he couldn’t seem to catch.

All things considered, those men had gotten what they were owed, their death had not been an easy one and they hadn’t deserved one. Coughing he bent double, fighting the burn in his throat as he hastily wiped his mouth. After what they’d done she called him a thug, no better than the scum of that town she’d ran from, all brown nosers to men like Al Capone and Floyd Banner. Letting out a shout of pure rage he threw the jar at a tree and watched as it broke apart, pieces falling into the snow while others stayed embedded in the tree bark.

Bondurants didn’t lay down for no one, not the civil protectors, not the high and mighty gangsters of the bigger cities, and sure as hellfire not for some woman who didn’t know how good she had it. Head must be thick as stone not to realize that what they’d done had been for her benefit too. Hadn’t she noticed that no one so much as side eyed her, hadn’t made just loud enough jokes about who she had been before she’d come to live in Virginia? No, she’d only seen the blood covering his face and hands, the satisfaction that had rolled off him in waves at a job well done.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers he kicked his way through the snow, his blood boiling with anger and sharp edged moonshine. Damn fool woman had gall, he’d give her that, but she’d had no right! Kicking at a pile of snow his other foot slipped, landing on his back with a force that left him scrambling for breath to groan. His back ached, the moonshine doing its job and dulling what could have been enough to make his eyes close to whimper. It took him longer than he cared to admit to get back to his feet, his mind irrationally blaming the tree root that was hidden beneath the snow and not his own inebriated state. Stalking towards it he stomped down on it with his heel, meaning to push it down, only to find himself on his back again this time sliding down the incline his blurry vision hadn’t seen.

Hands drunkenly fumbling as he tried to find a handhold in the snow and ice, he rolled onto his stomach ignoring the snow that was filling his shirt. His head slammed down on solid ice when he slid out onto the river, his limbs going askew as he groaned from the pounding in his skull. When he finally stopped he slowly pushed himself to his knees, gazing at the bank that seemed much too far away for the slide he’d just undergone. Carefully pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled towards the bank, watching the ice beneath his feet. Moments later he found himself on his back breathless, the back of his head pulsing with sharp pain. Cursing he sat up gingerly lifting a hand to check for blood.

A loud cracking sound echoed in his ears, his brow lowering confused as he looked around him. A long line in the ice extended away from him and even drunk he felt his heart quicken with panic. Scrambling he tried to move away from the fissure only to hear quick fire reports as he shifted his weight, his leg from the knee down engulfed in ice cold water. Letting out a surprised yelp he tried to yank it out only to have the other slip through the ice, his sodden lower body dragging the rest beneath the ice.

Panic, adrenaline fueled panic had him swiping desperately at the surface even as the current carried him away from the hole his body had made. The water rolled him, buffeted him around like a kitten with a ball of yarn, slamming him into the rugged river bed, dragging his torso over rock infested mud before he could find enough energy to coil his legs beneath him and kick towards the surface. His head and shoulders found a weak point in the ice, breaking through, the stronger ice digging into the skin.

Frantically he pawed at the ice around him before finally pulling himself out of the hole, moving slowly towards the shore only a few feet away. Falling on the bank, coughing up the brackish water in his lungs, he collapsed as his shivering muscles refused to support his weight. Blinking slowly, flakes falling in front of his face, mesmerizing in their simplicity, he tried to force his body to move. After a few false starts he made it to his feet, stumbling forward towards the trees. The rise beyond the tree line looked familiar and he was grateful for it, his teeth chattering as he slowly placed one foot in front of the other. 

Moving, keep moving. He stumbled in the knee deep snow, his body listing to the left and hitting a tree that sent him in a spin to the ground. White light obscured his vision, pain exploding outward from his temple. Landing face first in the snow he felt something warm on his cheek, curling along his jaw. Warm, warmth, have to find warmth. Dragging himself back to his feet, he gazed dully around him before seeing the hint of the rise again and walking in that direction.

The relief he felt at seeing faded wooden slats through the tree line obscured the hesitation that they didn’t seem quite right. Feet dragging he leaned against the door, almost falling into the room with a pained gasp at the warmth. His fingers curled around the wood as he pushed it closed before staggering towards the fire that was almost banked in the fire place. Numb fingers fumbled with the buttons of his cardigan before scraping at his back and pulling at the sodden fabric until he could pull it over his head. Shoving at the waistband of his trousers until they had fallen at his feet with a plop, he kicked them away and curled up on the threadbare rug shivering.

As he slipped into unconsciousness his mind railed at him, not safe, not home, get up. But the fire’s warmth was almost painfully good against his blue tinged skin, sharp pinpricks chasing themselves over his body as he curled tighter trying to get warm as he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mama! Mama!”

Letting out a low groan Kytatrina burrowed deeper beneath the quilt, pulling it over her head even as small fingers tugged at it insistently. The dim light that filled the cabin told her that morning had come but getting up wasn’t an option, she considered this one of those days that nothing could be more important that the warm nest of her bed. But that voice was still calling, growing louder and louder by the second.

She rolled over to face her daughter, pulling the quilt down just far enough she felt the cooler air brushing across her face. She smiled sleepily into the bright hazel eyes that were wide with surprise, the small cheeks flushed with excitement. Snaking an arm out she grabbed her daughter and pulled her beneath the quilt, fingers prodding until the child squealed shoving at the hands tickling her sides.

“Mama, stop!” small feet flailed, catching her in the stomach making her gasp.

“A few more minutes, darlin’. We’ll have flatcakes, with that marmalade we made, and powdered sugar. How about it, just for a few more minutes.” She felt half the fool trying to negotiate with her almost four year old daughter, but the bed was so comfortable.

“Not hungry, Mama!” she squirmed out of her mother’s hold, little chilled palms shoving at her shoulders. “Up! Up! Up!”

“Okay, okay. I love you, Adelaide, but I may blister your hide for this…” the grumbled words had no effect, her daughter slid off the bed, grabbing her fingers and tugged until Kytatrina finally moved to sit on the edge of it.

“Mama, look!” darting across the landing Adelaide crouched down, pointing down to something on the floor below.

When Kytatrina didn’t move fast enough for her eager child’s liking she’d found herself under attack of small fingers and a piercing voice that had left her head aching. She allowed the small bundle of noise to drag her off the bed and towards the ladder steps only to come to a stop when she caught sight of what had her daughter so excited.

“Adelaide?”

“See, Mama, see!”

“Yes, baby, I see.” 

Her blood had run cold, goosebumps breaking out over her skin at the sight of a bare broad back. Her eyes widened even as she curled her fingers over her daughter’s shoulder and pulled her back. Lifting the over curious child into her arms, she turned to tuck her into the bed, fingers tweaking her nose as she’d run over the likelihood that’d she be able to reach the rifle that was propped near the front door. Leaving her daughter in the bed, her heart pounding in her chest, she’d crept down the steps pausing when the last had given a loud creak.

Not a single twitch from the man who’d taken up residence in front of her fireplace, not even a soft sound to show he’d been aware of it. Heart in her throat, her fingers slowly curled and uncurled as she slowly made her way across the floor. The relief that shot through her when her fingers had curled around the cool barrel of the rifle was sweeter than honeysuckle as she’d lifted it to aim.

“Mama?” 

Startled she jumped, staring down at the small face peering up at her in confusion. She’d never done more than smacked her daughter’s hand in reprimand but at the moment she wanted to take a switch to her. Forcing a calm expression on her face that she didn’t feel, she squatted down and smiled.

“Go back upstairs, find Mama’s hair pins, okay?”

“Why?”

Oh God not right now, she cursed mentally as she turned Adelaide around and gave her a swat to encourage her to move towards the stairs. A low moan made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, her fingers tightening around the lever as she cocked it. Stepping around the table she felt ridiculous, tousled dark amber hair flying over her shoulder as she tossed her head to get it away from her face. The wooden floor beneath her feet was cold, but not near as cold as the chill running through her veins when he moved. 

He was massive, shoulders shifting as he rolled onto his back, his arm falling onto the floor as a fine shiver ran over his body. She couldn’t help taking in the thick chest and waist, the corded thighs, everything about him was muscled. Even in sleep when he whimpered, lines forming on his brow, his face was serious. It was the scar at his throat that firmed her resolve, anyone who could survive a wound like that was dangerous.

The floor had never seemed so long as it did while she edged closer, her stomach clenched when she lost the safety of the table between them. Lifting a foot she kicked at the hand that lay half open, palm up, jumping back with the gun tucked into her shoulder. Nothing. Nudging it again she frowned down at the man when he didn’t so much as flutter his eye lids. She leaned closer, hearing the shuddering breaths that seemed to rattle in his chest, smell the acrid smell of liquor thick sweat that glistened on his skin.

It wasn’t until he moaned again, his back arching, that she realized that the flush across his cheeks wasn’t from the heat of the fire. So now the question had become, Why was a man who was obviously sick and probably half drunk, laying naked in front of her fire place.

“Mama, he’s sick?” 

There wasn’t enough of God’s tender mercy, she decided, looking down to find that Adelaide had once again joined her. Glaring at the child had no effect, her curious gaze locked on the strange man who lay on the floor. It wasn’t until her shoulders ached that she realized she was still holding the gun up. Sighing she lowered it, not completely at rest but enough that her shoulders and upper arms stopped screaming at her.

“I don’t know, darlin’ but you need to go back upstairs and stay there. Do you understand?”

“Mama! He’s up!”

Her head snapped back to see the man staring up at them, eyes glazed as he blinked slowly. His tongue peeked out from between his lips, trying to wet them only to roll on his side to cough. The rattle in his chest was worse, the arm that had been laid on the floor moving to press against it as his fingers curled into a fist. Massive, Jesus, he was like a bear.

“Upstairs. Now! I mean it!”

Listening to her daughter’s little feet thump towards the stairs she kept her eyes trained on the man who had pushed himself onto his hands and knees only to fall on his side when he tried to stand. For a moment she felt a swell of pity fill her, dark memories trying to rise before she ruthlessly squashed them down.

“You have two minutes to get dressed and get the hell out of my home.”

Even as she said the words she felt her resolve crumbling, his arms shook as he tried to lever himself up again. Fighting against the urge to help, she watched him even as the rifle muzzle lowered to point to the ground at her feet.

“Can you even stand, right now?” her voice was soft, the rifle hanging by her side as she reached out a hand to assist him.

She was unprepared for the dark look he sent her way as he placed his hand on the fireplace and slowly pulled himself to his feet. When he swayed, she took half a step forward but he sent her another glare as he fell back against the warm stone with little more than a tightening around his eyes.

“Who the hell are you?”

The question surprised her, leaving her blinking up at him in confusion that swiftly turned to indignation. The sheen of sweat on his flushed skin did not make up for the belligerent way he was glaring at her, the way the muscles quivered in rebellion of the weight he was putting on them didn’t make the harsh inquiry any less insulting. Lifting her chin she remained silent, seething and wondering if maybe she could live with shooting a man who looked to be near his deathbed after all.

__ __ __

His head was pounding, legs shaking beneath him, as he tried to get his blurry vision to focus on the young girl that was standing in front of him. Resisting the urge to cradle his head he lifted his chin stubbornly, a cough tickling his throat that he tried to suppress. She didn’t look like Howard’s usual bit of skirt, but he’d be damned if one of his brother’s women was going to hold a gun on him in his own home. 

Glaring at her he tried to hold back the soft pained noise when his chest seized up, demanding that he try to expel the phlegm that was irritating it. Even though he was furious with her audacity, he still turned his head to cough onto his shoulder, almost falling when his chest seized again. Vision going grey at the edges he let out a groan, a hand curling around the mantle piece to help keep him from falling to his knees.

“Can you at least get dressed, I know you look terrible but maybe…” her words trailed off uncertainly.

Actually turning to face her was out of the question, his legs threatening to buckle, so instead he shot her a level look out of the corner of his eye. It took a moment to sink in, but once it had his gaze drifted down, a vague sense of horror filling him at the sight of so much skin. His muddled mind tried to remember the night before but all he could remember was being cold to the bone, no deeper than that, cold in a way he had thought he would never warm from. Opening his mouth led to another coughing fit, this time feeling as though every forced exhale was an attempt of his lungs to rip his chest apart.

If they’d slept together he was sure that he’d be remembering something else, the amber coloured hair spread across his pillow, those bit of honey eyes slipping closed, but he had nothing more than a bitter cold and the pain in his chest. A rough chuckle escaped him when he noticed the way her eyes fought against looking down, that more than anything else was a reassurance in and of itself. So why the hell was she in his home?

Lifting his head to call for Howard, his eyes focused suddenly, leaving him with the surreal sensation that he’d been blind. Small wooden toys were strewn along the floor in the corner, the grey light coming through the windows along the wall illuminating a small room he didn’t recognize at all. Coughing into his hand his gaze wandered over to the small cast iron stove in the corner, the table that held a vase filled with smooth pebbles and little snubs of coloured wax scattered over bits of paper.

“Look, mister, I don’t know where the hell you came from but you need to get dressed and get out.” 

He snorted, regretting the action immediately as it caused a blinding flash of pain inside his head, pressing his palm to his forehead as he slowly turned to look around for his clothes. Locating them was easy, though he frowned when he saw them heaped in a pile, bending over to get them proved harder than he thought it would be. Gripping the fireplace edge so tightly his knuckles went white, he bent to grab his pants from the pile only to have his head swim, the floor rising to meet him as he hit the floor with a solid thunk that jarred his teeth before his vision went black.

When he opened his eyes again he felt a sudden surge of panic, his chest too tight to breathe, his whole body feeling as though it was filled with moonshine fresh from the still instead of flesh and bone. Struggling to shift beneath whatever it was that had him pinned to the soft surface beneath him made his heart race until he realized that it was only a quilt and he didn’t have the strength to move. Disgusted with himself, he snarled through clenched teeth when attempting to sit up for the fifth time only to gasp helplessly as he strained.The effort left him coughing, his body curling in on itself as he rolled to his side, his throat dry and burning as the ragged movements jerked his body.

Wearily opening his eyes, blinking away the tears that had filled him during the attack, he found himself face to face with a small child whose nose rested on the edge of the bed as she stared at him. The little brow was furrowed with concern as she reached out to press sticky fingers to his sweat slick brow. He froze, his mouth falling open in surprise as she tugged down her sleeve and wiped his face with it. It wasn’t until he started coughing that he realized he’d been holding his breath, startling the small child so much she fell backwards away from him. Her mouth opened wide, tears filling her eyes before her head fell back and she let out a screech that made his head feel like a mule slammed a hoof straight through it.

“MAMA!”

Clasping his head in his hands, he buried his face in the pillows with what he refused to call a whine as the little banshee continued to shriek. The pounding of someone’s feet coming up the stairs made his jaw throb as he gritted his teeth. Blearily he eyed the woman as she came up to the loft, a low growl trickling out from his raw throat as he pointed at the screeching child on the floor.

“Adelaide! Stop that, right now!” the woman hissed, lifting the child to settle her on her hip, a hand brushing hair away from her face as she kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry, you must have startled her, I-“

“That little she devil almost killed me,” he muttered, slowly pushing himself up to rest on his hip, a hand still cradling his aching head as he coughed twice with a wince. He wasn’t expecting the light shove, two fingers pressing against his chest, nor the arched brow as he fell back with a soft grunt of pain.

“This little she devil has done nothing but help care for your wounds and make the broth that even has you lucid for the first time in two weeks. Remember that the next time you scare my daughter, mister.”


	3. Chapter 3

He woke suddenly, his chest on fire though he was too exhausted to cough anymore. The light wheezing as his back arched off the bed choked off when the movement stretched his skin, pulling at half healed injuries. Twisting on the sheets he clenched his teeth and tried to still the reactionary movement to no avail. By the time he’d finished, collapsing against the bed panting, a cool cloth wiped across his forehead, a soft voice humming a tune he couldn’t quite catch.

“Shhh, it’s alright, you’ll be alright darlin’. I’ll get you some broth, soon as you wake up.”

Sleep crusted eyes cracked open, blinking slowly to chase away the gritty feeling, he turned his head to stare up into the face of the girl who’d held a gun on him. Lifting his arm felt like trying to move through river mud as he grasped her wrist, pulling it away from his forehead when the proximity wreaked havoc with his vision’s adjustment. He could feel the frown on his lips, the lines slowly forming on his forehead as he stared up at her confused.

“Why’re you doin’ this?” surprised by the grating rasp his voice had become he tried to swallow though his mouth was dry. Opening his mouth, he closed it, swallowing again before trying to talk. “Why’re you helping me?”

“Did you know your clothes were still half ice?” Shaking his head, he watched as she moved the cloth back to his forehead again, the cool damp fabric brushing over his heated skin bringing a soft noise of pleasure from his throat. He frowned when he realized she’d avoided the question, instead substituting her own. “You must have been frozen to the skin when you stumbled in, how’d you manage that?”

“I dunno.” His eyes searched hers, letting his hand fall away from her wrist to settle on the pillow near his head, he scratched the growth of beard on his cheek with a grimace. “She alright?”

“Adelaide? She’s fine.” Eyebrows drawing down he turned his head to follow her gaze, finding a small body sprawled on what was left of the bed. Turning back to stare at her, he fought the cough that rattled in his chest as his eyes asked the question he couldn’t. “Where else would she sleep, there’s only the one bed.”

”I could hurt her.” Her laughter made him scowl, the sound husky as she tried to keep it quiet, staring down at him with an amused quirk to her lips. “You don’t even know me, I could be a mad man and you just left your little girl sleepin’ here?”

“A madman who can barely lift his arms, let alone sit up on his own.” she pointed out, turning to set the cloth in a bowl on the nightstand, coming back with a cup. “Here, sip on this, your stomach’s been a bit iffy with the broth at times.”

Before he had a chance to attempt sitting up again she twisted her hips to sit next to him, sliding an arm behind his shoulders to help him. He was sure the scowl on his face was going to become a permanent fixture as he gingerly sipped, letting the water settle on his tongue before swallowing. After a moment she pulled the cup away, a disgruntled sigh leaving him in a huff as he lifted a hand to grab it, only to slosh the fluid inside. 

“I don’t think you get it, you’re stomach has been very touchy, let that bit settle first.” the quiet reprimand made him roll his eyes to look at her annoyed. The tone had been one someone would use on a child, soft, soothing, just a bit patronizing. “I don’t want to have to clean the sick off of my mother’s quilt again, that alright with you?”

The flush on his cheeks had little to do with his fever, grumbling a half assed apology under his breath as he pushed the cup away. Shaking his head, he was surprised when his eyes began to slide closed of their own accord. Suspicious he ran his tongue along his teeth chasing the bitter bite he found, resting more fully against her as his body began to go limp with impending sleep. Clumsily pushing away from her, he slumped down onto the bed, glaring up at her through half closed lids.

“You need the sleep,” she chided, lifting the blanket slowly to stare down at his chest. Bothered, he tried to cross his arms over his chest as he continued to give her a level look. “Don’t look at me like that, you had some bad scrapes, they look better now, I think. I’ll check on them in the morning when the light’s better.”

“What’d you give me?” he rolled his jaw when the words came out slurred, as soon as he was better he was going to kill her. 

“Just a bit of laudanum, you’ll be fine.” she stared down at him, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable under the sharp look. “What’s your name, I can’t keep calling you mister.”

“Or darlin’.” The snap he meant to be in the words got lost in the yawn that drawled the word out longer than he intended. It wasn’t just the laudanum making him tired, it was the strain the illness was putting on his body, and the nutrients he was unable to keep down. 

“I-” her cheeks stained a red so bright he was able to see it even in the dim light in the room, her eyes sliding to look elsewhere.

“Your accent’s all wrong, too. Not from here.” It wasn’t a question but a half accusation as she picked up the cloth and wrung it out. He tried to pull back when she reached out, letting out a snort when she ran it along his forehead, cheeks and neck. 

“No I’m from farther down south, not that it matters.” she blinked down at the hard line of his mouth, the sullen look coming from beneath half lidded eyes. “Or… It does?”

“You didn’t-” he paused with a yawn that turned slowly into a weak coughing fit as he rolled onto his side to face her, wincing when the injuries on his chest pulled. “Why?”

__ __ __

“Why, what?” she knew exactly what he was asking and even if he hadn’t meant it to be a personal question, it felt like one. So many horrible memories she didn’t even know where to begin sorting them, let alone try to put them into words.

Avoiding his gaze she leaned over him, a hand resting lightly on his shoulder for balance to run the cool cloth along the back of his head to his neck, across his shoulders before moving away. He was still waiting, she could feel his gaze burning holes into her as she dipped the cloth into the water. Taking her time she wrung it out again, kneeling down beside the bed and carefully wiping the dried sweat from his face and neck. 

“You gonna answer me?” his fingers limply gripped her wrist and she stopped moving with a sigh, pulling loose to toss the cloth back into the bowl.

“I couldn’t let you die, now could I?” she immediately regretted the quarrelsome tone in her whisper, moving away to walk around the bed and pick up the small rag doll her daughter had let fall to the floor.

Despite the fact that his size, and the scars that were scattered along his body, screamed that he was a dangerous thing to be treated with extreme caution, she couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t some monster. It made her feel stupid, made her feel like some girl who didn’t know any better, but she just didn’t feel threatened by him at all. Blaming his sickness that left him weak, she leaned down to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, tucking the doll beneath the small hand smiling when the fingers curled to hold it.

“I don’t understand…”

“Look,” she took in a deep breath, held it, then let it out through her nose. Why did it matter? Couldn’t he just be happy that she was letting him recuperate before kicking him out of her home? “You’re sick, right? Why wouldn’t I help you if I could? It’s not like you stumbled in and thought to yourself that you’d take advantage of my soft heart. You thought you were home, right? So, I just-“

Letting her mouth close against the ramble that had been flowing from her mouth she gave her daughter one last kiss and moved to grab the bowl. Giving him one last look she turned on her heel, catching the soft noise of discontent he made when she didn’t finish her sentence. Water sloshed in the bowl as she made her way down the stairs, her blouse speckling with it as she crossed the lower floor. The bowl clattered on the table as she fell into a chair, letting her head fall onto her crossed arms with a shaky breath.

There was something about him that she trusted, though she was unable to put her finger on it. For over a month she’d dealt with the fever that just refused to break. The delirious fits of harsh shouting as he’d come up swinging, once catching her off guard, the reward being a rather large bruise that had since faded but the area still felt tender. The soft whimpering that had escaped him during the higher peaks of temperature.

It had to be caring for him that made her feel safe around him, she finally decided. Not the half conversations she over heard when he muttered in his sleep, the tender words he spoke to his brothers, the mumbled assurances that things were gonna be fine. The way he’d railed against her, shouted at her for keeping him here, from going home to his brothers who need him, his eyes glassy with fever. A man with a deep sense of family loyalty, why wouldn’t she come to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her daughter even accidentally?

A low whimper from upstairs had her head lifting and turning, Adelaide’s voice rising as the whimpers grew louder. Shoving back from the table she moved to the stairs, halfway up them when she caught what had become a familiar grumble. Peeking over the rise, she saw that he’d rolled, his upper arm flexing as he slowly ran his hand along her daughter’s back. Quietly taking the last few steps, she hesitated, listening to the murmur and realizing it was a lullaby. He couldn’t really carry a tune but the way it rolled out of his chest, even peppered with the occasional cough, was soothing all the same.

“It’s alright, Jackie,” her eyebrow rose, moving to stand on the other side of the bed to see that he was asleep. Who was Jackie, was that what he’d called his younger brother when he was a kid?

She still couldn’t place the lullaby, his voice too low for her to catch the words but as Adelaide whimpered again he pulled her close, his body curling around hers. She couldn’t place why it made her uncomfortable but it did, the over large body curling around her child, the fact that Adelaide burrowed close to his chest. It brought a flutter to her stomach that made her throat close tight, moving back towards the steps even as the murmured words softened to a low hum.

A very selfish feeling filled her chest, it took a moment to place it as jealousy, and her fingers shook as she lifted the crocheted blanket from the chair by the fire. Adelaide didn’t care where her comfort came from when nightmares plagued her, she knew that, but still watching the little girl she’d raised on her own turn to someone else… It hurt. She couldn’t even curse him properly, she groused as she settled into the wooden chair, spine curling and uncurling as she tried to get comfortable, she hadn’t even gotten his name.

It was a blessing not to dream. Most nights she was exhausted from keeping her rambunctious daughter from tearing apart the cabin, coming up with game after game to keep the eager child occupied. From going up and down the stairs to bring him a thin broth, to refresh the water in the bowl that she used to wipe his body of the sick slick sweat that covered him. He was better than he’d been, the fever had broken again and again only to come back more fierce than before. She’d seen illnesses like that, but none had been able to survive more than two weeks. He’d suffered for almost six and she could tell that he was finally on the mend, she couldn’t be happier.

The sooner he was gone the sooner she could get back to normal, not going to bed with the heavy taste of exhaustion on her tongue, or watching the way her daughter seemed to be getting attached. It wouldn’t do any good for her to even begin to like him when he’d hopefully be gone soon. Shifting on the chair she fell into an uneasy sleep, dark dreams rising out the exhausted fog bringing a low sound to her throat as she tried to chase them away, unable to wake.

She didn’t wake when her daughter thumped down the stairs an hour later to crawl in her lap, the ragged dress of her doll clenched in one hand as she rubbed the knuckles of the other against her eyes. Didn’t wake to the unsteady gait that stumbled down the stairs, the soft wheeze as the man rested against a beam to catch his breath. When she did wake, hours later in her bed with her daughter’s head tucked beneath her chin, she assumed that the past month or so had been a very strange dream. At least until she’d rolled over and found herself staring at his face, unshaven cheek resting on his arms as he laid propped against the bed, the rest of him curled on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

To call it a surprise was an understatement, her heart jack hammering in her chest as she froze mid stretch, fingers curling in the sheets. What was he doing on the floor? How had she gotten into her bed when she’d fallen asleep by the fire? Her mind hurled question after question, her mouth twisting into a frown as she stared at him. In the morning light she could see that his colour was better, not the robust colour she assumed it could be, but definitely better. Hesitantly she reached out, trailing the back of her fingers over his forehead, finding it dry for the first time since he’d shown up.

Smiling she pressed her wrist against the skin finding it cooler, though still hotter than it should be. The soft wheeze she’d become used to was an occasional sound amongst the most God awful snores. She rolled onto her back to finally get the stretch her body was craving, her chest warming in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. Adelaide’s little foot pressed into her side and she didn’t even mind the dig, or the fact that her daughter somehow managed to take up most of the bed while she’d been checking on him.

“She alright?”

She jumped, turning her head to stare in surprise at the half lidded eyes that had been closed just a few moments ago, her fingers reflexively pulling the blanket to her chest. Nodding she watched with concern as he placed his hands on the bed and pushed himself to his feet, swaying only once before standing still. She couldn’t help but be extremely grateful he’d found the strength to put on his pants, the suspenders hanging from their snaps.

”Feeling better?” the words were hushed, broken by a yawn as she moved to slip out of the bed.

The morning light showed that the thin lines on his chest, where she’d had to stitch closed a few of the deeper wounds, were still red around the edges. Not infected, she thought with a wash of relief, just angry at the movement he’d put them through. Smiling up at him from where she sat on the edge of the bed, she couldn’t help feeling proud of herself. The smile wilting at the edges when her sleep addled mind conjured up memories of when she hadn’t been so lucky. Standing, she shoved her fingers through her hair, pulling it back to twist it before tying it in a knot on the back of her head. 

“Think you could keep down a piece or two of toast?” 

Slipping past him she moved down the stairs, making a jump to skip the bottom step to avoid the creaking stair. She heard him follow a few moments later, turning her head to see that he’d gripped the beam at the bottom as he stared at her. 

“What is it?”

When he shook his head, she frowned, watching him mutely shuffle to the table and lever himself slowly into a chair. He stayed hunched over the table before forcing himself to sit upright, the edges of his eyes tight, his lips pressed together. Turning her attention back to the bread she sliced it slowly, feeling his eyes on her again as she buttered three pieces and placed them on the flat top of the stove. Kneeling down to pull open the door, she tossed in a few pieces of wood before lighting it, enjoying the warmth on her face.

“Thank you.” The words were almost too soft to hear, and for a moment she wasn’t sure she’d actually heard them.

“You’re welcome.”

She didn’t turn around, instead concentrating on the bread, flipping it over to brown the other side as she tried to think. There’d been dark clouds coming in from the East when she’d taken Adelaide outside to play in the snow the day before, angry black smears on the cool grey winter sky. She’d been in the area long enough to know that it meant a blizzard was coming, a bad one by the looks of it. He wasn’t well enough to leave just yet, not that she knew where the hell he’d come from, but it couldn’t have been close.

Carefully plucking the toast from the stove she set them on a plate and carried them to the table. Placing the plate in the middle she turned to pull a jar of marmalade down from a shelf before taking a seat herself. His eyes were still on her, the gaze sending goosebumps over her skin as she twisted open the jar to lightly spread a bit on a piece of toast before taking a bite. She couldn’t help jumping when his broad hand moved into her line of sight, fingers pausing before curling around the jar and pulling it across the table towards him.

The staring began to get under her skin, shifting in her chair as she stubbornly refused to meet his gaze, instead staring down at the scribbles of colour on papers that were scattered across the table. She couldn’t help watching as he moved the last piece of toast to the edge of the plate, pour a dollop onto the empty space and lightly press a corner of his toast into the marmalade. Her toast hovered near her mouth as she watched him slowly repeat the process, her mouth hanging open. He only ate half before dropping it onto the plate, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

“Stomach?” His grunt made her smile, pushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear as she took another bite of her toast. “That was a yes noise, right?”

The look he sent her made her laugh out right, covering her mouth to hide the food still in her mouth as she tried to concentrate on not choking. A raspy sound reached her ears and she felt guilty for a moment thinking he was trying to fight back a coughing fit only to realize it was a low chuckle. Taking another bite she grinned at him, shrugging her shoulders in a careless way as she pushed a pitcher of water towards him.

“Mama?” Pushing away from the table she headed towards the stairs, coming to stop when she saw Adelaide slowly crawling backwards down the steps, her doll dangling from her clenched fist.

“Morning, darlin’.” pulling her off the last couple steps Kytatrina wrapped her arms around her daughter and nuzzled the sleepy face as chubby little arms wrapped around her neck. “You want some toast?”

“Nuh uh.” came the muffled response from her shoulder.

“Eggs?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Then what do you want?” she rolled her eyes trying to adjust the dead weight in her arms as she went back to sit in her chair, settling her daughter on her lap.

“Cookies.”

“Not a chance in hell.” she mused, kissing the top of her tousled curls, “You can have toast and marmalade.”

“No.” Sighing she grabbed the last bit of her toast and held it near Adelaide’s mouth, tilting her head to smile at her.

“Just one bite and I’ll think about cookies.”

“No Mama!”

“Addy, please, don’t do this, you’ve been doing so good.”

“Cookies, please?”

“Toast.”

__ __ __

Forrest watched the two of them, idly smearing the marmalade on the plate with his toast. Same nose, same dimples when they smiled, though Adelaide’s hair had more red, there was a hint of her mother there too. Watching her goad her daughter, the shameless pleading for just one bite, he couldn’t help the soft grunt or the way he shook his head. Jack had been the same way, he’d only been 13 when his brother was Adelaide’s age but he remembered the fits.

It took him a moment to realize that Adelaide’s wide hazel eyes were locked on him, no, not him, his hand. Slowly lifting it to his mouth he took a small bite then pushed the plate towards her without a word.The girl almost lost her grip on her daughter when the child lunged for the piece of toast and moved to put the whole piece into the marmalade.

“No.”

She froze, little brow furrowing as she gave him a puzzled look. Leaning across the table pulled the cuts on his chest but he took the toast away, tearing off a small piece before handing it to her. He couldn’t help the amused twist of his lips when she stared at it for a long moment, crawling off of her mother’s lap to sit on the table.

“No.” When she didn’t move he reached out, wrapping a hand around her ankle, pulling her towards him and off the table to his knee. “Don’t sit on the table.”

The solemn nod, her middle fingers sliding into her mouth, made him smile even as he took hold of her wrist and pulled them out with a soft disapproving sound. Holding up the last of his toast in front of her, he slowly swirled the end through the marmalade before tossing it into his mouth. When he saw her straining to reach the plate he pulled it closer, a hand settling on her thigh to dissuade her from climbing onto the table top again. Marmalade dripped over the edge of the plate as she made a mess trying to mimic the swirl he’d done before putting the toast in her mouth as well as a bit of finger.

“The piece was a bit big, don’t you think?”

He looked up guilty from the task of trying to thumb away the marmalade that stained the corner of Adelaide’s mouth, lifting the pad of his thumb to his mouth to lick away the sticky spread. He’d not even given it a moment’s thought before tearing the toast, it had been a bit large as Adelaide’s bulging cheek proved as she tried to chew it. There was a tone to her voice that he didn’t understand, the voice too quiet for him to read.

Her eyes were lowered as she took another bite, but the movement was jilted almost, the easy smile gone. Frowning, he grabbed Adelaide’s wrist when he saw the small hand creeping towards the marmalade out of the corner of his eye, though most of his attention was locked on the girl across from him. Something had upset her, most likely a complete stranger handling her daughter with such familiarity.

“Eat nice for your Mama.” he muttered into Adelaide’s ear, giving her a soft shove once he set her down.

The look of betrayal the child sent him surprisingly hurt, rolling his jaw as the little hands gripped his pants to try and crawl back onto his lap. Untangling her fingers from the fabric he turned her and tried again to send her around the table. She balked, lower lip pushing out as she looked back over her shoulder before turning, hazel eyes growing wet as she held her hands up. When he didn’t immediately understand what she wanted, his brow furrowing, she scowled.

“Up!”

He heard a choked sound coming from the girl on the other side of the table, turning the confused gaze to her. Jack had always listened to him, sat down when he’d told him to sit, ate when he’d told him to, he couldn’t understand why the girl was being so stubborn. Adelaide’s little foot stomped down on the ground, her fingers curling and uncurling as she strained her arms higher. Blinking slowly at her he put a finger in her hand, the tiny digits curling around it, before turning her and giving her another soft shove.

“She’s a cuddler in the morning,” she finally supplied, a hint of the smile from earlier playing around her lips though there was still something in her eyes that he couldn’t place.

Adelaide took advantage of his distracted state and was half way onto his lap before he had a chance to tell her no. Sighing he slid a hand under her arm and lifted her onto his lap, grabbing her wrist when she reached for the marmalade again. Reaching around her he picked up the toast and tore off a piece, hesitated then tore it in half before giving it to the child who happy smeared marmalade off the plate and onto the table. He winced, taking the soggy toast away and holding it to her mouth, sharp little teeth sinking into his fingers.

Laughter echoed through the kitchen as he shook his hand, eyeing Adelaide with distrust as he handed her another piece of toast. Again she smeared marmalade, this time adding her other hand to the mess, squealing happy as she began trying to splash the thick fluid. Sending the girl a sharp look, he stood up, holding Adelaide at arms length as he moved around the table. The girl shot out of her chair and was around the table before he had a chance to put the child in her lap, laughing so hard she had to hold onto the chair he vacated to keep from falling.

“That’s your mess, mister. You get to clean her.” The smirk was full of mischief as she pointed to the sink, “Good luck, she hates getting cleaned up.”

That pulled him up short, Adelaide’s legs swinging as she laughed delightedly at the new game, sticky fingers gripping his forearms. His lips curled in distaste as the small palms smacked against his skin when he didn’t set her swinging again, the high voice demanding.

“Swing! Swing!”

“Get you cleaned first,” he turned his head, coughing dryly into his shoulder, before giving her a stern look. “No fuss.”

He shouldn’t have believed the innocent little face, all freckles and bright hazel eyes. Should have known by the way the girl had scoffed when Adelaide nodded, that he was in for trouble. But all he could remember was how easily he’d wrangled Jack, time making the memories of that age so much simpler than they had actually been. Her shriek when she saw he was carrying her to the sink startled him so much he’d almost dropped her. Eyes wide he turned his head to stare at the girl who was leaning against the wall having hysterics.

“You’ve no idea, mister. This is tame.” She’d panted out, arms wrapped around her stomach. “Wait til you see bath time.”

“My name’s Forrest, not mister.” he growled, tucking the screeching toddler under one arm as he turned on the tap. 

An hour later he couldn’t believe the little angelic creature happy babbling nonsense while she coloured, was the same banshee that had soaked both herself and him when he’d tried to get her hands cleaned. He shook his head, his ears still ringing, stopping only when she patted the arm he had around her waist to get his attention.

“Forst, Forst, look!” He couldn’t make heads or tails of the drawing but he murmured it was very nice, lips pressing together in a mimicry of a smile, broadening to a real one when she’d beamed up at him before going back to scribbling.


	5. Chapter 5

His whole body ached, shoulders rolling to try to relieve the tired throb as Adelaide chattered at him nonstop. Most of the sentences were disjointed, her little hands placing things in his lap until he was almost buried beneath them. He shouldn’t have carried the girl and her daughter up to their bed; he was paying for it in spades now. But he’d felt guilty after finding them both sprawled in a chair too small for sleep. There’d been a hint of something else beneath the guilt but he hadn’t had the presence of mind to puzzle out the emotion and was certainly too tired to try it now.

The girl had pestered him until he’d moved to the chair after she’d laid Adelaide down for a nap, taunting him until he’d stood on his own just to prove that he could. She apologized, though he still wasn’t sure what for, as she cleaned the table. The hastily tied knot came loose, letting strands of mahogany coloured hair trickle over her shoulders as she tried to wipe up the marmalade before it set. The crocheted blanket had been itchy around his shoulders but he’d been grateful to find something to cover his upper body. He’d been just this side of asking her where his shirt was when he fell asleep.

“Forst!”

With a low questioning hum he opened his eyes, unable to remember closing them, to find a small wooden train thrust in his direction. Taking it, he moved to put it in the pile that covered his lap only to have the child huff impatiently. 

“No, Forst.” He hadn’t known someone so young could sound so exasperated. “Yours!”

And then she’d darted off to find something else to show him, leaving him staring down at the wooden engine amused. There were chips in the wood, proof of inept hands making the attempt, the entire thing stained with what he could only assume was India ink. Small crescent marks marred the stack, he recognized them as teeth marks and felt his lips curl slowly. Rubbing his thumb along the marks, he looked up to find her dragging a small table covered in a battered tea set over only to give up halfway. Thanking God for small favors, he turned his attention back to the train, rolling it over in his palm to find her name etched into the bottom with a uneven heart around it.

“Forst, look!” 

A small doll filled his vision, the dress ragged at the edges, the small cloth body stained by only Heaven knew what, but the look on her face was enough to tell him that it was something to be treasured.

“Pretty.”

“Yes, ‘nnabef.”

“Annabeth?” he asked, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

“Mm hmm!” 

“Annabeth’s real pretty.”

The doll hung from her hand as she turned to go find something else, the brown yarn hair swinging as the small button eyes stared back at him. He never had things like that, but he’d helped Howard make sure that Jack did. Little wooden guns, small boats to take with him into the bath, even a group of small toy animals that had left scars on both his and Howard’s fingers. It had taken them several attempts to get better at carving, the nicks becoming less and less frequent on their hands.

__ __ __

It’d been odd to have some one else in the cabin while she’d moved around, trying to get as many chores done as she could while Adelaide napped. She’d refused at first, howling miserably until Kytatrina had promised to take her out to build a snowman afterwards. After that she’d had to stop the insistent tugging Adelaide had done on Forrest’s hand. 

The puzzled smile on his face as he’d tried to pull loose had been cute. The silent plea for help when his eyes met hers even more so before taking pity on him, and explaining that she wanted him to nap with her as he had over the past month. Scowling at her for the amusement she’d had in her voice, he’d turned to Adelaide with a strained smile, his voice low as he explained he didn’t need anymore naps.

“Thinks I’m a teddy to cuddle.” he’d grumbled before drinking the coffee she’d left near his elbow and ignoring the child’s pleas.

Smiling at the memory she exhaled on her hands to try and warm them as she trudged through the slush that slicked the ground. She almost slipped twice, kicking at the snow and ice that had built up outside the door, yanking it open and stepping inside. She was glad it was winter, the cold air helped keep the food better than summer. Grabbing the basket she kept by the door, she tried to figure in her head whether or not they’d have enough to keep them through the blizzard that was slowly creeping towards them.

Though she had learned to read the weather, it was still not as predictable for her as she’d like. She knew a blizzard when she saw one but she wasn’t sure if it’d be one that keep them in doors for days or weeks. The idea that maybe she should go into town left her with a bad taste in her mouth. There wasn’t anything wrong with the town, not really, the people were always incredibly sweet to Adelaide. But the side long glances, and the half whispered comments about the too young widow living up in the woods always had her fists clenched tight at her side and her shoulders tense when it was finally time to leave.

A part of her argued that she should risk it if only to drop Forrest off in town, to get him back to his family, if he had any, that must be looking for him. Still she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a bad idea. No, she corrected herself as she grabbed a tin of flour, she was being selfish. It was nice to have someone she could actually talk to that understood what she said, conversations that didn’t revolve around cookies, playing in the snow, the next tea party, or half sentences that only made sense because little hands dragged you to the thing the other person was talking about.

Her eyes drifted to a small vial of vanilla, and the bag of chocolate chips next to it. She’d been promising Adelaide cookies for weeks, with the on coming blizzard maybe it would be the best time to make them. Smiling at the thought of her daughter’s small hands covered in dough, and little flour hand prints on her dress, she tossed the items into the basket.

__ __ __

He hadn’t known one child could have so many toys, or things that apparently held a story, he was almost completely sure she didn’t stop once for breath. Enthusiastically naming each thing as she set them on his lap she waited, small mouth stretched wide in a grin, until he repeated it back to her before running off to grab something else. Forrest was exhausted just watching her. Jack hadn’t been this enthusiastic, had he? He remembered watching Jack toddle around the farm, scaring the animals to death with his sudden happy laughter, but this?

It wasn’t until she went to scale a shelf that he had the presence of mind to call a stop to the show and tell that had been foisted upon him. Clearing his throat to catch her attention, he shook his head slowly, his eyes locked on hers. Incredulously he watched as she lifted a foot to put it back on the shelf, turning his head to cough onto his shoulder as he continued the stare down.

“Cup!”

“I’m sure it’s a nice cup. Leave it.”

“No.”

Surprised, he watched as she began to try and pull herself up in earnest, a soft grunt coming from her as she strained. Brushing his lap clear he stood, stopping for a moment to cough , leaving him breathing shallowly as his chest tightened. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it was enough to leave him feeling light headed. Watching the shelf lean forward he let out a low groan of disbelief, staring down annoyed at the child as he made it just in time to keep it from tipping over on her. Still, a few smaller things tumbled to the ground, a few spices spilling onto the floor.

“Cup, Forst!” letting go of the shelf, she pointed upwards, jumping excitedly.

A soft sound rumbled in his chest, half amused, half piqued, as he pulled the cup off the shelf to hand it to her. Confused he watched her run to the sink, her little fingers curling around the edge as she stood on her tiptoes. Following her, he leaned over her to look in it before looking down at her confused. If she had wanted a drink why didn’t she just say so, he knew she could talk, his ears were still ringing from the day he’d spent with her. A chill ran up his spine, his head swam leaving him gripping the sink, eyes falling shut.

“Juice, please?”

Little fingers bunched the fabric of his pants at the thigh, tugging, the waistband sliding low on his hips. Catching his pants by the belt loops, he stopped them from falling completely, before he wound up giving Adelaide a glimpse of something he’d rather she not see. He vaguely remembered that it was likely she’d already seen him, the girl had mentioned that Adelaide had helped care for him while he was sick. That brought a whole new flush to his cheeks, as he yanked his pants higher wishing he knew where his shirt was so the suspenders wouldn’t chafe his skin.

“Adelaide Marie!” His eyes widened, head twisting sharply to see the girl standing in the doorway, staring at her daughter in horror. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Mama!” letting go of his pants Adelaide ran to her mother, squealing happily as though she hadn’t been gone only a few minutes.

“I leave you alone with him for five seconds and you’re driving him crazy. What am I going to do with you?” Forrest let out a soft snort, catching the amused look she sent his way as she squatted down handing her daughter a small can of peaches. “What has she been up to? I wasn’t gone all that long but you look beat.”

The long suffering groan he sent her in reply made her laugh as she moved to set the basket on the table, the sound bringing a curl to his lips as he let go of the sink. He jumped when she lifted her hand, brushing his forehead with cool fingers before smiling at him. Her mouth opened to say something but her daughter yanked her off balance, demanding to know what was in the basket, chattering away. Moving slowly back to the chair, he pushed the toys away with the outside of his foot, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he sat. 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but apparently he had, jerking awake to a hand shaking his shoulder lightly. Lifting his hand he slowly rubbed his eyes with this forefinger and thumb, grinding the remnants of sleep that hid in the corners.

“You should try to eat something.”

For a moment the eyes staring down at him were blue smoke, the skin pale, and he tried to hold onto it even as it slipped through his memory’s grip. Frowning when the memory faded, he curled his fingers into fists, soft fabric bunching in his hands. His mothers eyes had been a dark green, she was always tan from the sun. Who the hell did he know that looked like that? His head ached as he tried to force the memories return, shifting away from the line of thought to an easier one. Surprised he looked down to see his shirt folded in his lap, small light blue stitches marring the pattern

“There are a few buttons missing but I did the best I could.”

He glanced up at her, a self conscious smile curling her lips as she lifted her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. A brief flash of red caught his eye, a memory of soft flaming red hair falling onto a milky white shoulder. Staring down at his clothes he tried again to put a face to the mismatch of features his brain kept teasing him with. He realized she’d stepped away, his gaze lifting as he caught her wrist in his hand. 

“Thank you,” he paused, his brow lowering as he stared at her.

“Kytatrina.”

” ‘s a mouthful,” he mumbled, his thumb rubbing along the curve of her wrist before he snatched his hand away like her skin burned him. Leaning forward he pulled the shirt over his head, grimacing when the top four buttons proved to be missing. Better than going without.

“I know, that’s what Matthias always said too.” the musing tone didn’t quite match the shadows flitting behind her eyes.

Standing to pull his suspenders onto his shoulders, he couldn’t help the relieved sound he made. He only felt half human when he wasn’t fully dressed, though the way his shirt gaped open midway to his stomach left much to be desired, it was better than that damned blanket. Eyeing her as she turned to walk away, his fingers played over the tiny stitch work.

“Matthias?” Her shoulders tensed as she remained quiet.

He felt a pang of guilt when she slid the plate onto the table, the sharp sound of the ceramic making him wince. His hand caught her forearm when she moved to walk past him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her eyes, not that he had a chance to. Even without seeing her face he knew that she was deeply hurt over something, he knew silences, could gauge the weight of them and this one rested heavily on the air.

“Sorry.” He didn’t fight when she pulled out of his grip. Felt foolish when his hand stayed in the air for a moment before falling to his side.

“Don’t be, it’s fine.” The thickness in her voice made her a liar. The way she didn’t look at him when she said it, but instead stared at a chest that was tucked behind the stairs that led to the loft. “It was a couple of years ago and I’ve got Adelaide, don’t I?”

“Still…” Unsure of how to continue, he let the mumbled word trail off into silence.

Losing his parents had been unbelievably painful, he still found himself stumbling down the stairs in the morning half expecting his mother to be making breakfast. His mind shied away from even trying to imagine how hard it must have been losing someone you planned ending your life with. She side stepped out of easy reach, climbing the stairs, pausing to send him a small smile that hurt more than it helped.

“There’s a lot of him in Adelaide, so it’s kind of like I never lost him at all, right?”

He could hear her waking Adelaide, the cheerful tone sounded forced to his ears. Sitting at the table, he picked up the cold sandwich only to stare at it. It had been a very stupid thing to dig like that, he didn’t even know her. But his name crossing her lips had made him curious, that and an irrational surge of anger.

What kind of man left a woman and child at home, alone, in the middle of winter? A dead one apparently, he thought as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his fingertips digging into the soft bread. Taking a bite of the sandwich he couldn’t stop himself from grinding it between his teeth more than chewing it. He felt so annoyed with himself for dredging up bad memories for Kytatrina when she’d been nothing but kind to him. Small fingers curled around his elbow, yanked at the fabric, he couldn’t help the thrill of warmth that shot through his chest.

“Come play?”

Turning his head he found bright hazel eyes peering up at him from beneath a burgundy wool cap. She was bundled in what looked to be a few sweaters and a coat that was much too large for her small frame, a pair of gloves pinned to the end of the sleeves. Her little legs were covered by trousers that tucked into her boots.

“No, thank you.” The joyful expression dimmed, the mouth twisting into a frown.

“Please?”

“I said, no.”

He felt like the world’s biggest jack ass when the eyes filled with tears, the lower lip trembling until she pulled it into her mouth to bite. Shifting uncomfortably he turned away when she sniffled, lips thinning in a grimace as he finished chewing the bite in his mouth. She was faking, had to be. Even grown women weren’t this easy to bring to tears, this much of an emotional wreck.

“Forst?”

Wincing, he tried to hide the movement by taking another bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly and staring at the wall across from him. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, tugging on his shirt sleeve, her expression miserable. What had been a delicious sandwich now tasted like sawdust on his tongue, it would be incredibly stupid to go out in the cold after getting over his illness. Incredibly so. But if it would just stop those eyes from staring up at him so imploringly, he was just about willing to risk it.

“Addy, c’mon, he’s just getting better. He needs to stay inside.”

He refused to acknowledge the sigh of relief he let out as Kytatrina cajoled the child outside with promises of the biggest snowman she’d ever seen. Staring at the door he could hear Adelaide’s happy screeching, Kytatrina’s laughter and he took another bite of his sandwich before putting it down on the plate. The chair screeched as he pushed away from the table, brushing his hands off over his plate before moving to stand near the window.

“Forst! Forst! Look!”

Her clothing was covered in snow, her cheeks already pink with excitement and cold. Kytatrina was working on a mound of snow, slowly building up the pile and smoothing it with her hands. He was a bit fuzzy on when he opened the door, more than half surprised to find himself helping her, the cold air slipping beneath his shirt as he kneeled in the snow on the other side of the pile. He let out a low grunt when Adelaide jumped onto his back, throwing him off balance and into the snow.


	6. Chapter 6

Her sides still ached from laughter, the memory of Forrest's eyes wide with surprise as Adelaide tackled him to the snow making giggles rise in her throat. The look he shot her let her know he knew exactly what she was thinking, his lips thinning as he smoothed his hands along the ball of snow they'd used to make the torso.

" 's not that funny." he muttered and she coughed to stifle the laughter building in her chest. "Child's more than half wild."

"She was just happy you came out, that's all." Her eyes flicked to where her daughter was digging around in the snow trying to find stones for the face. "You did tell her no."

"Should of left it at that."

"Forst, Forst, look!"

"At wha-"

There was no holding back the peal of laughter that escaped her, watching as slush dripped off of his face. Adelaide had yanked on a branch trying to reach a pine cone and inadvertently rattled the snow on the branch loose. Watching him wipe his face clear, she tried to stop laughing long enough to get a full breath for an apology.

"You're all wet, Forst." the disapproval in her daughter's voice made it harder to stop but she managed it, barely. "You're sick! Not supposed to get all wet."

Choking on her laughter, she was watched as Adelaide carefully wiped his face with her sleeve, patted the side of his face when she was done and scramble off to go back to what she was doing. Not sure she could keep a straight face, she tucked her chin down and kept working on the head for the snowman while he crouched on his haunches with a look of confusion.

"You alright?" she finally asked, the colour in his cheeks starting to worry her. Had the fever come back?

"Hmm,"

"I'm not sure if that was a yes noise or a-"

" 'm fine, don't worry about it." he mumbled, gripping the front of his shirt to shake the snow from it. "Just, it's nothin'."

The ball of snow in her hands was easily lifted, though it was almost as broad as her torso, and placed on top of the body. Grabbing handfuls of snow, she smoothed the neck with a proud grin. She'd said she was going to make her daughter the biggest snowman she'd ever seen and it definitely looked like she succeeded.

"Addy? Did you find those stones?"

"Yes Mama."

"Do you want to put them on? Is he going to be a happy snowman, or is he going to be an angry one to keep the animals away?"

She watched with a stab of jealousy as Adelaide offered the stones to Forrest, grinning up at him even as he stared down at her confused. When he looked to her in askance, she grinned and shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess you're making the face."

"No, no I'm not."

Wrapping his hands around Adelaide, he lifted her up and turned her around so she could place them herself, settling her on his arm with her back resting against his shoulder. His fingers prodded the snow face, marking where the eyes would go, an indent for the nose.

"Now you put them stones in there, go on, and then you pick on how it's gonna look after that."

She grinned, watching her daughter frown as she stared at the face, carefully putting the stones in the indentations before slowly pushing the stones into the snow in a straight line for the mouth.

"Addy? You don't want the snowman to smile?"

"No. I want it to look like Forst!" she beamed at her, causing a soft choked sound to come from Kyt's throat.

"You sayin' I don't smile?" he groused, putting her down and glaring at her.

When she shook her head, the woolen cap sliding off her curls, his frown deepened. Debating on whether or not to break up the dispute, Kyt coughed to cover her laughter, hand hiding her smile.

"I smile, just 'cause you don't notice don't mean I don't."

"Smile."

"What?"

Kytatrina buried her face in her hands, laughing silently, feeling the dark look he sent her but unable to stop as her daughter repeated herself. The impatience in her tone made Kytatrina snort, her eyes watering as her stomach began to burn. His scowl didn't help anything, his brow wrinkling as he gave her daughter a look that was apparently supposed to bring her to heel. It didn't.

"Smile, Forst! Like this." Pressing her fingers into her cheeks, she smiled broadly, her eyes disappearing as the baby fat on her cheekbones rose.

"I ain't smilin' like that."

"Forrest, just smile. If you do we'll go back inside and I'll start on cookies."

The bribe worked just as she planned it, her daughter's eyes going wide as she ran into the house with no more thought to the battle of wills. Letting out a sigh of relief, she turned her attention back to Forrest and felt the breath stop in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. It was almost as if he were trying to puzzle her out, trying to figure out what it was that made her her and it made her uncomfortable even as a warmth spread through her chest.

"What?" She finally asked, unable to take the staring anymore. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothin'."

But the look didn't seem like nothing, it made her skin prickle and the hairs on the back of her arms stand up. She'd noticed that he'd started watching her, even when he'd only been half lucid he'd watched her as she tried to bring down his fever. It wasn't a calculating look like she got from other men, the one that wondered if she was worth the chase. No, it was an almost hungry look, for affection, with a hint of fear for the denial he assumed would be coming.

"You want to help with the cookies, Forrest? Might mean we get more cookies into the oven."

"I don't bake."

"Well you can just sit at the table and help me keep Addy from eating all the dough, maybe? That'd be a big help in and of itself." The words started out normal but sped up as she began to feel self conscious over the way his eyes glowed with warmth.

"I can do that. She's a good kid."

His lips didn't curl, but there was a crinkling around his eyes, and a gleam to them that was brighter than any smile she'd seen. She couldn't help grinning, a soft chuckle coming from her as she tossed her head towards the house.

"We should get inside before she finds the chocolate and eats it all. We'll wind up with plain cookies if we're not quick."

"You didn't put them on the shelf did you? She'll pull it down on herself tryin' to get to them."

Kytatrina laughed, despite the ache in her sides before cutting off abruptly when she realized just how true that was. Turning, she ran towards the house, almost slipping in the slush that covered the yard.

Keeping a child out of cookie dough, as he quickly discovered, was an almost impossible task. Adelaide was as devious as she was cute to look at, her little fingers deftly slipping into the bowl to swipe at the dough before either of them could blink. Finally, for the sake of his own pride, he pulled her onto his lap and gave her a spoonful of the stuff to lick and nibble on while her mother began putting them into the oven.

"Want some, Forst?"

"No."

"Here!"

The spoon dug against his chin right below his lip, his eyebrows coming together as he pulled back to grumble at her. Grabbing her wrist he pulled it away, and wiped the wetness from his skin as he glared down at her.

"I said no, I meant it."

"But it's good!"

Grunting when her knee landed dangerously close to his groin as she turned to face him on his lap, he tilted his head back to keep his mouth out of reach.

"Said no."

His gruff tone brought tears to her eyes, her lower lip quivering, and he mentally cursed even as he lowered his chin and opened his mouth. There was something off about the cookie dough that he couldn't place, something about the texture because it tasted delicious. Pulling back, he rolled his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to puzzle it out.

Ten minutes later he realized what it was, the dough was thicker than it should have been, the cookies didn't flatten out like they should but stayed thick almost like miniature biscuits. Taking one from the sheet, he tossed it between his fingers, noticing the way the middle was soft but the edges were almost hard.

The look Kytatrina sent him had him taking a bite, the self consciousness in her gaze and the way she held herself would have had him saying it tasted delicious even if it had tasted like old shoes.

"What do you think? Be honest."

"They taste real good."

"Really?"

His hand paused as he was lifting the cookie to his mouth for another bite, the smile that spread across her face making his heart react oddly. A stutter in the steady beat, that made him go still. He could feel his cheeks flushing so he lowered his head, taking another bite only to have Adelaide take the rest of the cookie from his hand to eat.

"Adelaide Marie! That was rude."

"Sorry, Mama."

She didn't look sorry, her fingers and mouth covered in crumbs and smears of chocolate. Forrest reached for the towel that hung off the back of the chair, wiping her fingers before carefully cleaning her face.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to him. Right now."

"Sorry, Forst."

"No more cookies for you until tomorrow. Do you understand?"

"But-"

"I mean it."

Eyeing her daughter for a moment longer, to make sure that she knew that she was in trouble, she finally turned around to make the next sheet. Adelaide whimpered, and eyed the cookies as though they were the last thing on Earth worth living for, her hands curling around his forearm as she settled back to pout. His hand darted out to grab another cookie from the plate, handing it to her as he watched her mother work. He grabbed the cookie back a moment later when her mother turned around, shushing her softly until it was safe to return it.

"Thank you for helping with her, you shouldn't have to."

"It's no problem, don't bother me at all."

"Yeah but still," she trailed off as she looked over her shoulder to look at him.

His lips twisted into a slight smile that dripped with guilt, lifting a hand to scrub the back of his neck as she took the plate off the table. He would swear that she was smiling though he couldn't see her face, it wasn't until she continued speaking that he could hear it in her voice.

"I think you're done with cookies too, mister. Can't trust you to stay strong against a quivering lower lip."

He didn't reply, instead looking down at the chocolate smeared mouth that grinned up at him, offering him the last bite. Shaking his head, he watched as she popped the whole thing into her mouth, crumbs falling onto her shirt and his lap. The sound of a glass thunking softly onto the table made him jump, eyes flying up to see her standing there holding out a glass for him as well.

"I know they're a bit," she paused and he watched as she lowered her gaze to her feet as she thought. "They're a bit thick and the milk helps."

"They taste really good."

"Yeah but-"

"Best I've had in a long time." He watched her blush, the quirk of her lips making her look not much older than her daughter and definitely more shy. "But they do need a bit of milk with them."

At the not so subtle reminder that she was still holding his glass, she almost spilled it when she thrust it towards him, her face still glowing with the compliment. Taking it from her hand she almost let go too soon, snatching her hand back as his fingers brushed hers trying to get a grip on the glass.

"You alright?" ignoring the thrill of warmth that shot up his arm from the touch, he studied her face and frowned when she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Maybe you should sit down."

"No, no, it's alright I just, um,"

He felt more confused when she grabbed the plate and put it in front of him, her face angled away from his, not even aware that she almost spilled them into his lap. Catching the plate, his palm keeping the cookies from spilling he kept watching her until the realization almost made him spill them himself. She was being bashful, something he hadn't really expected to come to the conclusion of and for a moment he doubted it.

"Thought I was in trouble too."

"What? No, you just, ah, you can have another if you like. Or three. It's fine."

The slightly elevated tone, the rambling way she spoke almost floored him. Not just bashful but embarrassed as well. Shifting in his seat, he went to move Adelaide only to find she'd fallen asleep, her head tucked into hollow of his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his upper arm. For a moment he felt a bit put out, a slight twinge of guilt at the thought that he couldn't use the child as a buffer until he sorted out the occasional stutter in his chest and the tickle in the back of his throat.

"Unless you don't want anymore, that's fine too. I'd completely understand."

"Maybe after-" he paused to clear his throat, he almost felt like he couldn't breathe properly. "After I put the little ladybug to bed."

"The what?"

He couldn't remember what he'd been talking about, his brain giving a soft huff before going blank. Tongue darting out to chase over his lips, he found himself staring at hers and wishing he hadn't. There was a tightly clenched fist in his stomach, his throat hot and itchy as he struggled to remember what he'd wanted to say. But she was staring at him, her honey coloured eyes confused, her mouth open slightly as she tried to puzzle out what he meant. Not good, he thought to himself, tightening his arm around her daughter to stand, his gaze still locked on her mouth.

"Adelaide, I'll just put her to bed."

"Oh," he cleared his throat when her mouth held the shape, the curl of them making him think about leaning closer to see if they tasted as sweet as she was. "You call her Ladybug?"

"Mm."

"That's sweet, actually. Why though?"

The answer was clinging to the back of his throat, choking him, because all he could think to say was 'You're pretty', or some other such nonsense and he couldn't bring himself to do it. If for no other reason that she was still mourning her dead husband, he couldn't blurt out some drivel brought on by a surge of hormones like some crazed teen boy who didn't know any better, like Jack.

"I bet it's because she just flits about and almost never lands, right?"

"Mmhmm"

"I'm sure she loves that. Do you want me to take her up?"

If he'd taken a moment to think about it he would have declined the offer, would have told her that he could do it himself. He would have shaken his head and hoped that the nervous energy he could feel making his heart pound, didn't make him shake it fast enough to be suspicious. Instead, feeling like a fool not seconds later, he gave a quick jerk of his head in affirmation.

Feeling her hands brush against his arm almost made him jerk backwards, the heat that built from it making his lips thin slightly. When Adelaide refused to let go, Kytatrina's fingertips trailed along his chest as she rubbed her daughter's back in an attempt to rouse her enough to make her move. He almost let out a low groan when she moved closer, her body pressing against his as she tried to cajole her daughter to transfer her vine like cling to her body instead of his.

"I think you'll have to-"

She swallowed hard, he could hear it in the quiet room, as the smile she'd been wearing slipped away. The hand that had been moving on her daughter's back went still as her eyes widened. There was a thin band of what looked gold around her pupils, and he could almost taste the cookie she'd been nibbling on while she baked.

"I think you'll have to put her to bed."

Watching her mouth open slightly in invitation, her head angling, he almost leaned forward to kiss her. He wanted to, wanted to know if he could taste the laughter she'd been doing all afternoon, wanted to taste the sigh that he was sure would escape her when he did.

"Mama?"

"Hey darlin', c'mere. Let's get you to bed, alright?"

Simultaneously relieved and frustrated, he felt the small hands stop clutching at his shirt, the tiny body rolling to curl against her mother. He felt Adelaide nod her head sleepily, lifting a hand to slip her thumb past her lips, the other reaching out to tangle in her mother's hair. Mumbling something in her sleep, he took a shallow breath as he stepped back, brushing Adelaide's hair from her face.

"Say good night to Forrest."

"Hmm?" Her eyes blinked open, settling for half way as she stared at him for a moment before smiling sleepily. "Night, Forst."

"Night."

"I think I'll turn in too." She wouldn't meet his eyes, and he couldn't blame her. "I think I'm a bit worn out."

"G'night, then."

"Good night, Forrest."

He didn't know what to think about the pang he felt when she left, grabbing the afghan off the chair before slowly settling down onto it. The fire was banked but he barely gave any thought to stroking it back to life, he was hot enough already and didn't care enough to bother. Stretching out his legs, he slouched down in the chair and tried to ignore the way his whole body was aching to do something.

Briefly, he entertained the idea of climbing the stairs to make sure that it was just his imagination, that she hadn't wanted to kiss him as badly as he did her. But he shoved it aside and instead focused on not imagining what her lips would have felt like on his, or the warm heat of her body pressed against his. When his mind refused to submit, he tossed the afghan to the floor, patting his pockets for a cigar before realizing that too was a futile mission.

Muttering curses under his breath, he decided that the cold air would probably still do him a world of good, maybe enough to chase the fire that was burning under his skin since his will power alone wasn't enough. As he was walking out the door, he spotted a familiar looking box, closing his eyes in fervent hope before reaching out to open it. Inside, nestled in red velvet, were several cigars and he felt his knees go weak with relief. Pulling the door shut behind him after he grabbed a pack of matches, he lit up the moment the wood nestled against the frame with an appreciative groan as the smoke filled his lungs.

It wasn't the brand he was used to, and they had an almost stale taste to them, but the familiar buzzing in his head was helping in ways the cold couldn't quite manage. Leaning against a post for the porch, he took another deep inhale and tried not to think of Kytatrina sprawled out on the bed, with her hair tousled around her shoulders on the pillow. Tried very hard not to imagine the sleepy way she'd smile at him if they slept in the same bed. Fought against the way his mind happily supplied how it imagined she would feel pressed type against him as she slept.

He let out a sharp grunt when the cherry of his cigar burnt his knuckles, his lips burning. Throwing it out into the snow he looked around the porch for somewhere to sit, despite being recently recovered from illness he was more than half tempted to sleep in a chair outside. A quick look proved the hope foolish, and he crept back inside, carefully shutting the door behind him.

"I thought you might have left,"

Startled he turned to find Kytatrina standing at the foot of the stairs, her words thick, a glimmer of tears in her eyes visible with the dim light from the fireplace. He felt his head shake as his feet moved forward of their own accord, his hand lifting to brush away the tear that had begun rolling down her cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not going anywhere, still sick. 'Sides, my doctor ain't told me I can go yet."

The watery chuckle had a corner of his mouth tucking into his cheek, finding himself unable to move his hand away as she nuzzled against his palm. He wasn't ready for the way she leaned forward, her forehead resting against his shoulder as her own shook.

"Hush, it's alright. Why're you crying?"

"I'm not."

"Then why are you-"

He went still when her lips pressed against his, her fingers tangling in his shirt as she fell against him. The taste of her was better than he had thought it would be, his hands tentatively moving to settle on her hips. She jerked away just as his arms were circling her waist, her hand flying to her mouth as she backed away.

"I'm sorry, sorry. Oh God I just-"

Unsure of how to reply he stood still, his brow furrowing as he watched her back towards the stairs. His hand lifted slowly, though not far, before falling back to his side as he tried to figure out if he should say anything at all. After a while he settled back into his chair, his hands resting on the arms of it as he tried to settle himself. He could still taste her on his lips with every inhale, his gut clenching, still feeling her fingers tangling in his shirt. Sleep wasn't going to be an option any time soon, and he let a low groan as he headed back outside with another snatched cigar to smoke as he settled out on the porch.


End file.
